Wind Beneath My Wings
by MachinationsDream
Summary: After a serious fight with her beloved, Molly heads to a bar to drown her sorrows, and question her relationship, and if it'll work. Songfic inspired oneshot, mused onwards by two popular love songs. MollyXTrixie pairing


(Note: I'm sorry that I haven't updated "No Need for Timmy!" in a while, I have the second chapter done, but it just doesn't feel...right, ya know? So, while I figure that out, I got this idea for a one shot story, inspired by multiple songs and a strange, rarely seen coupling that I suddenly really like... may do more one shots like this, depending on how it's received. So, thanks for being patient, and I hope you enjoy~)

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As soon as the words leave my lips, I instantly regret more than anything I've ever said. The look she gives me is shattering, the love, the hurt, the confusion and frustration. I steel myself in the heat of the moment, our first major fight over, me saying something just to hurt my one true love. On the inside, my heart breaks, seeing her usually beautiful, exotic visage be marred by the tears of a hearts lament, her long, silky black hair frizzing about her face as she weeps from the deepest part of her soul or souls.

She trembles from the weight of her sobs, her delicate shoulders threatening to break from the gravity of her sorrow. I can't bear to see what my need to win at any cost, my desire to end an argument stemming from Trixie's worry of my behavior of late turned into a fight from my turning it around on her, lashing back at the mother of my child in a childish defensive manner, unable to admit she was right, that I have a problem.

"How could you...?" she whispers in sorrow, the tears unending, the pain real, the guilt setting in my heart. I turn my back to her, the perfect woman she is, how could she ever understand that I feel undeserving of her love? I may not even have it by the end of the night. I walk out of the kitchen, glaring out of my long bangs, roughly grabbing my jacket from the hanger, my keys from the bowl, and place my hand on the door knob. I pause there for a moment, hearing my wife speak one last, bearly audible word. "Molly..." My name is uttered with such a mixture of torment, yet love, that I cannot bear it, and storm out of the house, ignoring our luxury car for the novelty of walking. I see the incredible house we live in, the gorgeous lawn, meticulously taken care of by the best groundkeepers money can hire, the handful of obscenely expensive sports cars sitting sparkling under the moonlight in our humongous drive way... and I feel anger that I did not provide these for my wife in the least.

It's later, much later, and I wander the shady downtown area of Dimmsdale, her hometown, were we first met, and where we were wed. I wonder why she holds this podunk little village so high in regard, maybe because _he_ lives here still, I think in a drunken, jealous rage. My fists clench into balls, tight enough to draw blood with my nails. I stumble slightly down the street, having been thrown from my favorite bar for drunken brawling... I scoff mentally, and continue my search for a new place to call sanctuary for the night, seeking solace from my own inner demons.

I pass by the famous Dimmsdale Dragon Theater, second only to the one in Hollywood. I turn my head away from the posters adorning the walls, trying not to acknowledge the image of my wife center stage, Trixie Tang, A-list actress and media darling... I fight back the bitter tear threatening to fall down my cheek... How could she claim to be a single mother? How could deny my role in her life on national television? Couldn't she see she hurt me first? I am _NOT_ the bad guy here!

I shake my head, and take my mind off those bitter thoughts. I find distraction in the arms of a brand new bar, a little heard off hole in the wall called The Yellow Flag. I enter through the double doors, noticing the very "Mexican-western" feel of the place, and go sit at the bar, my only company on older many finding immense interesting his his shot, and a Korean bartender with a bad look about him.

I find myself ordering a scotch, and then another, and another, and soon I find the time had passed on in this quiet, lonely manner for close to an hour before something gets my attention. I glance to the side as I bring the newly freshened glass to my black cherry lipstick-colored lips, and see the middle aged man looking at me, then sighing.

"What're you looking at, asshole?" I snarl, throwing back the drink, and glaring in irritation at the admittedly nicer looker gentleman.

The man smiles sadly, and fiddles with his whiskey, swirling the ice cubes around inside of the glass, makings a small tinkling sound.

"Relationship problems, young lady?" he asks, hitting it dead center, and making me angry at this intrusion of my personal life. How dare this prick?!

"Fuck off,' I manage to mutter, after minutes of trying to think of something better and more intelligent to say. I take another drink, and glare in the opposite direction of the man.

" You shouldn't be here,' the man says softly. " You should really get home, and talk to them... try and make things work out."

" Mind your own god-damned business, what's it to you?!' I growl, indignantly. " You stay outta of my fucking life, you don't know me. You don't know shit!"

"I know you'll regret what you've said for the rest of your life, if you don't go and get through this rough spot with your beloved..."

I was on him in an instant, pulling the short man up on his tiptoes by the collar of his shirt, and raging in his face, not caring about the hot tears streaming down my cheeks in thin lines.

"What tha fuck you say?! Do you wanna fucking DIE, you limp-dicked cocksucker?! What do you know about JACK SHIT?! HUH!?" I scream at the man, not caring about the attention I was drawing from the rest of the patrons in the bar, or that the man looked at me with such sad sympathy.

" Sometimes?... Yes... yes, I do...' he answered quietly...truthfully, and I felt my hands release him, and I watched him with wide eyed realization... that this man was just like me. He slumped back into his stool at the bar, and I sat down next time, limp and uncomfortable. Was this really what I was looking forward to?

"...I hate everything...' the man sighed, deep with self-loathing regret. I look in his direction, and watch him in silence.

" I hate my job... I hate my life...' he said, staring at his glass. " If it weren't for my two kids, I'd hate my ex-wife. "

I saw as he gave me a meaningful glance, and I looked down at my feet, thinking about what happened tonight, and started to, for the first time, question my actions.

" I know I should be strong, and not be this starved thin...' he shrugged down at his body, that I now realized was sickly and impoverished. " I just cant get over the fact that she left me for him..."

The man sighs, and looks down at his drink. Glances at me, and says " Tonight, I think... I hate _everything_..."

I stare in silent self-contemplation, and watch as he shrugs and turns back to his drink. I think of the times I spent with Trixie, my half-Asian goddess... I remember how I fell in love with her at first glance, and how I hid my embarrassment by insulting her... The flawless, rich and popular Queen of Dimmsdale Junior High... I think about how we acted as if we hated each others guts, but would smile at each other with respect when no one was looking... how I wondered at one point if we simply fought with each other in public as a way to actually be near one another, as our social standings wouldn't allow such a thing in that teenage hell. How we got into a fight in the bathroom of of the Senior Prom, which changed from shoving and hair pulling to hungry kisses and a passionate night of making love, only exiting the stall when we realized everyone else had gone home.

I look at my scotch glass as it bled condensation on the outside, and I glanced at the man drinking away his sorrows, and his life...I wondered if things were really as bad as this tortured soul portrayed from his own failed experience with love... I was reminded of the times when she wouldn't take me seriously, when her fiery arrogance that came from years of her getting way simply humored me, so that we would stop arguing and I'd cave into her will. But I also am reminded of that after those times, when I would be laying on the couch, staring the ceiling I would smell her intoxicating scent, and feel her desirable, soft body cling to me, see the top of her head as as she buried her face in my less as developed chest and express her muffled apology into my bosom, and ask me to return to bed... I think of how she never once forgot any of our firsts, how the room lights up when she enters it, how the same happens to my heart whenever she smiles at me, in that way reserved _only_ for me.

I smile upon making my decision, and stand up from my seat, look at the man, and pay for his drinks. And I say" Thanks... Thanks for _everything_..."

The man smiled at me, and nodded. I left the bar, more sober than I was several minutes ago, and hurried home.

"Huh?! Wha-Oh, Molly...My Molly, where did you go?' she exhales in utter relief, hugging me in a vice like way, as I had tried to enter the bed without waking her. She had cried herself to sleep, and was clinging to my favorite pillow for dear life, hiccuping and sighing my name. She had woke up when I was softly stroking her hair, and now she was hugging me to herself, as if she was afraid I wasn't real and would float away. I shush her, and hold her in my arms, my heart over flowing with love. I pet her hair, the way I do to calm her down, and I could tell she was calmer already, as she snuggled into my embrace deeper, and she sobbed apologies into my night shirt. I tell her that she has nothing to apologize for, that I should have never said such a thing, that I should have _never _questioned her love, her loyalty, and I ask if she could ever forgive me. I realize that I have started to cry, and Trixie pulls herself up and kisses me tenderly, longingly. We spend seemingly an eternity like that, in each other's arms, comforting each other, before long we are laying in bed together, my love resting on me like a pillow, holding me gently, my arms above my head, one bent down, slowly and softly stroking her hair, making her softly purr in that way she does...

"Hey, Trix...' I speak after awhile, eliciting a grunt of question from my beautiful wife.

"What is it, Molly-bear?' she asked, using the pet name I find embarrassing, but allow her to use in the privacy of my own home.

"You once said their was something you loved about me... something that made you fall for me...' I say, looking down at her. " What was it?"

'Hmm...well, a lot of things, now, actually...' she said after a moment of looking thoughtful. She closed her eyes as if in a dream, smiling as she moved deeper into my arms. "There's the way you wake me up every morning...' (I remember the special forehead kiss I give to her every day, as she sleeps through her alarm.) '… the way you get mad at me...' (Usually I am in the right, too...) ' ...the way you always forgive me afterwards...' (No matter the reason, I can't stand to see her upset for long...I'm such a softie...)'The way you cover me when we ride the bus...' ( She's a 10 time Oscar winning actress, a woman with a genius IQ, Maxim's #1 Most Drop-dead Gorgeous Celebrity in the World, and she's all _MINE.)_' The way you wear your hat...' (The same beanie since I was 10, it's an important part of my past...) 'And the way you sip your tea...I love the way your smile just beams, and the way you sing off-key...~' She teases me, and giggles when I playfully jostle her and protest with a grin. (We can't ALL have platinum albums, Ms. Perfect~) " Heeheehee...*sigh* the way you haunt my dreams...the way you wield your knife...' (I am at the very least a World-class Chef, available for hire never~) '….that time we danced till three...'

"You used to suck, that's for sure...' I grin, teasingly. She playfully hits my shoulder, and rolls over onto my stomach, laying on her own, looking into my eyes with a serious, loving stare.

"...the day you changed my life...' she spoke quietly, causing me to give her my full attention, swallowing hard like a virgin, as only she can, color coming to my cheeks, her lips closing in, oh-so ever slowly towards my own, her expression one with devotion...of commitment... of utter trust and love in me, and I feel silly for ever having doubts about her and Timmy, the man who donated his sperm to give us our darling daughter Serena, the spitting image of her mother...

"...No one can _EVER_ take that away from me..."

*CHU~*

-End-

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(I hope you enjoyed this little story of mine, as I woke up in the middle of the night and felt the inspiration to write it just for you~ Read and Review! ^_^ Thanks)


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